


Just for tonight (put on the cap)

by scottmczall



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/pseuds/scottmczall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia analyzes him, blinking slowly. His hair is almost entirely covered by the cap, with only some strands poking out by the back of his neck. Stiles is wearing his black long sleeved, white torso shirt, and those sleeves are most certainly rolled up, showing the path of veins and dusted moles on his forearms. He's got nothing but spiderman boxers on the lower half of his body, showing his white, slim legs. Everything is stupid. He looks stupid. And it's turning her on. </p><p> </p><p>"I can't believe this." She states, almost gasping at her own taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just for tonight (put on the cap)

**Author's Note:**

> The cap thing is a very important thing. Have you seen Stiles wearing a cap? You should. It's great and horrible.

Lydia can't care to count which night in a row this is, but she's at Stiles' again. She'll spend the night like she did last, and everything will be great.

 

They share the bed like pros by now, and Stiles doesn't complain about his arm hurting anymore, because he has found an angle. The angle doesn't poke her back awkwardly anymore, which means she has found an angle of her own. The ways they move in sync and work like engines has Lydia thrown off, gasping for air she doesn't need. She'll rip her tongue off with her own teeth before admitting to that out loud. 

 

She sits on his bed, brushing her hair absentmindedly as Stiles swirls around, looking for whatever. He throws things on the floor, and curses when he steps on them, but it isn't until something bumps against her foot that Lydia reveals the question that's been stuck in the back of her throat since he started the madness, "What the hell are you looking for?" Her tone lacks patience and the usual finesse. It's fine.

 

"A game! Scott says he didn't take it but I know he did. With those sly werewolf senses. Took without me seeing!" He accuses with a frown, pulling a box out of his closet. He dives right in, even if he sounds absolutely convinced of Scott's thievery. 

 

Lydia gets up, letting herself enjoy Stiles' mild desperation, and hovers, looking inside the box as well. She hoped for porn magazines or DVD's, anything that she could tease him with, but Stiles is smarter than that, and she knows it. "What's that?" Something catches her eye. It's a piece of cream colored fabric, bland, simple looking… A cap. 

 

Stiles smirks and giggles, grabbing it, "My cap! I haven't worn this in forever!" He rises, bringing the cap with him, and when he's looking at Lydia from above, he puts it on, backwards, like an asshole. "Oh, man, this is so old..." He reminisces, turning in the mirror's direction. 

 

Lydia analyzes him, blinking slowly. His hair is almost entirely covered by the cap, with only some strands poking out by the back of his neck. Stiles is wearing his black long sleeved, white torso shirt, and those sleeves are most certainly rolled up, showing the path of veins and dusted moles on his forearms. He's got nothing but spiderman boxers on the lower half of his body, showing his white, slim legs. Everything is stupid. He looks stupid. And it's turning her on. 

 

"I can't believe this." She states, almost gasping at her own taste. 

 

Stiles doesn't look at her, still checking himself out in the mirror, "What?" He shifts the cap a little to the side and Lydia is absolutely sure he's never looked so ridiculous before. 

 

She slaps his hand away from it, "Stop that!" She scolds. The girl steps further, crowding him, and starts pushing him towards the bed. He looks back at it before falling on the mattress and having her sit herself on his lap comfortably, legs involving him in a loose embrace. "You look like an asshole." 

 

Stiles lets his mouth hang open, looking a little lost—a little clueless, but that only lasts until Lydia ruts against him in only her short nightgown and lace panties. "That's gotten you in the mood? Me looking like an asshole?" He attempts a chuckle, but instead lets out a broken thing lost in between a groan and a laugh. 

 

Lydia doesn't confirm nor deny that for the time being, considering other options even if he knows he's most definitely right, "I don't know," She says almost innocently, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. Stiles lingers after that, he always does, chasing after her in silence. She pulls away and takes a look at him, feeling his eyes fall heavy over her as she does. Lydia lets her hands travel through the cap, smoothing it until she reaches the back of his neck, "I don't get it," 

 

Stiles is smirking up at her now, hands sliding up and down on her sides, "Why you're attracted to me? No one gets that." He shrugs dismissively and she pulls at his hair, tugging with determination and forcing him to look into her eyes.

 

"I don't care about that." She states seriously—fondly. Stiles nods dumbly, looking like he's in a bit of a haze, "You do look ridiculous right now, though," Lydia bites the corner of her bottom lip quickly, then pouts, still ogling him pensively, "I'm just..." She trails off for a second, not sure if she's about to admit it or not—but she is, "Turned on by it." 

 

Stiles breathes in loudly, letting her cup his cheeks with a persistent frown. “I’m totally fine with that.” He assures hurriedly, swallowing in awe. Lydia giggles, leaning only to catch his bottom lip in between her teeth and drag them through his skin slowly, softly. She resumes the act by sealing their lips chastely, leaving him wanting more when she pulls away. 

 

“You should take your clothes off.” She breathes the words out swiftly, and she's glad it sounds like a command even then. Stiles likes being given instructions and they found that out together soon enough. The boy looks at her, stripping off of his cap and shirt before she climbs off of his lap and he stands, tugging his pants and underwear down. 

 

She doesn't suppose she'll ever get tired of tracing his skin, stopping at places she remembers were bruised, and drawing invisible lines in between moles. He's half hard already, the blush on his cheeks growing brighter and his eyelids falling heavier blink by blink. Lydia hands him the cap again, eyes glinting in excitement when he puts it on.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes at her, "Is this gonna be a thing from now on?" He half mocks, taking one step towards her. 

 

Lydia looks up at him, appreciating the position they're in, and squints, "It's definitely a thing right now," She muses absently, taking his length on her hand. Stiles gasps, one hand running through his face and she smiles to herself. Lydia reaches for nightstand, opening the first drawer in automatic motions, not looking much before retrieving the bottle of lube.

 

"Okay, o-okay, I'm totally in!" Stiles states, his labored breath giving him away, "I like this thing, I—ah—I approve of it," He moans when she kisses the tip lovingly, throwing him an amused look. 

 

Lydia flicks open the cap, looking up at him with a wicked smirk on her lips, abandoning him just to pour some lube on her hand, and he sighs at the loss. She smears it around his cock ably, hearing him hiss, "S'cold!" 

 

"I know, shut up.” She dismisses quickly, stroking him slowly, letting her thumb travel around and under the tip, making Stiles’ toes curl the way the likes seeing them do. To Lydia this is an exercise on her ego for the most part, watching her handy work drive Stiles mad, eyes rolling to the back of his head and his muscles twitching and going taut under her touch. 

 

“But you like it when I talk.” Stiles teases and she strokes a little harder in response, having his hips buck up into her hand. “Shit, _Lydia_ ,” He sighs, glaring at her, and leans forward with one hand on her shoulder.

 

She smirks, going back to her even pace, “I do, but your father is home, remember?” Her voice drops on volume on instinct when she mentions it and she can hear Stiles filling his lungs quickly with a sharp inhale. Lydia lifts an eyebrow at him, feeling him twitch on her palm, “Are you gonna tell me you like the prospect for getting caught?” She tilts her head, flat out glaring at him and Stiles _whimpers_. It sounds wounded, and small, and perfect. 

 

He mouths something at first, head dropping forward and lids heavy like he’s dozed off, “I'm not—I don't—" He drags the words out in a weak protest, seeming too immerse in her movements to actually argue with his girlfriend. Stiles stares at her hand going back and forth, her wrists screwing in small circles and his toes go taut. “Lydia, I think I might—“

 

“Okay, sh,” She places an open mouthed kiss right under his navel and pulls back, “Sit down.” Her tone is firm and leaves no space for arguing, but it’s not like he’d protest anyways. Stiles is cooperative, always happy to do as he’s told when he comes to this. Almost pays off for his constant need to defy her in every other aspect of their lives. 

 

When he’s seated, she makes a point of getting up briefly and looking right into his eyes while sliding her panties off one leg at a time. The way he tries and keep up her stare at first, but cracks and looks down a second later sparks something inside her. She’s aware of how she looks, of every curve on her body, her breasts and hips—she’s beautiful. She’s been told once and again, and most importantly, she _believes_ it, even uses it in her advantage. But nothing compares to the way he looks at her when they’re like this. Stiles would devour her if he could, she knows it just by looking at him, and watching how he licks his lips and clings to whatever’s standing near him like he needs something to ground him when they’re alone together. 

 

“I like it when you look at me like that.” She confesses, sitting on his lap again.

 

Stiles smirks, sliding his hands under her, massaging her thighs and her ass, shooting her up, “I like looking,” He states and winks at her, "We’re a good team.” 

 

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, not even bothering to sound as phased as she is by how much this is affecting her, “Please never wink when you’re wearing this stupid cap, it’s—“ 

 

“Turning you on?” He quirks an eyebrow up, palming against her skin until his finds her entry, sliding one finger across, getting a sharp breath out of her, “I've noticed.” 

 

Lydia widens her eyes at him, frowning slightly, “Stiles!” And there is a _how dare you_ caught in there somewhere, but then the tip of his cock is suddenly circling her hole and the air is gone, “Stiles—“ This call comes choked up, her eyes closing as he pushes her down gently, prepping adoring kisses all over her neck and jaw. His hands run up to her waist, thumbs sinking on her skin as he groans against her neck, “Stiles, s-shut up,” Lydia warns, her tone lower than before.

 

“I can’t—you’re _so good_ , Lyds,” He says the words in between sobs and Lydia could just melt, feeling him hug her tight and thrust up into her instinctively. She lets her head fall back, biting her lip, and comes back forth, kissing him full on the lips. There’s something about Stiles’ sloppy kisses when he’s involved like this, like he can’t fully concentrate on both things at a time, that’s just _heavenly_. His tongue flicks aimlessly in between her bottom lip and her tongue, and he sucks on them whenever she moves down, meeting him halfway. 

 

Lydia swallows, letting her thumb caress his nipple and pinches it, listening to Stiles' muffled moan, “You can’t be loud,” She warns again, letting her tone slip out a little higher when he slams into her, giving in completely. He’s not quiet, though—she’s actually never been with anyone this loud—, so when he whimpers again, his forehead resting against her shoulder, Lydia’s right there with him, unable to hold back when he doesn’t. 

 

There’s his need to be vocal and that stupid cap in direct contact with her now, sliding against her jaw, and she _despises_ how good he looks and sounds, because she can’t resist it. She’s never had something so out of her hands before. She wants to drown in it. 

 

“Kiss me so I’ll shut up,” Stiles asks hurriedly and she complies, even if she actually wants to tell him about the way he looks with his chest flushed and eyes unfocused, lost in his own rhythm as he pounds her like that (she might be overestimating her control over her breathing). She twirls his nipples between the pads of her fingers, searching for a way to wreck him like he does her, even if she suspects she already is, and Stiles grunts inside her mouth, inhaling sharply and letting go, pulling away only to kiss her chin and speed his pace up. 

 

“Oversensitive much?” Lydia teases breathily, pulling at the nub this time and watches as Stiles clamps his mouth shut, eyebrows drawing together, “Good boy,” She coos, breath hitching when he hits her spot, “ _Fuck!_ ” She curses a little too loudly, and Stiles hugs her with only one arm, covering her mouth with his hand, smirking. He slows down a little and Lydia bites mercilessly at the meat of his hand, forcing him to take it out in no time, “Fucking _keep going_ ,” She demands, one hand running over his cap, “You look like such a f-fucking asshole, baby,” She whispers against his ear, licking at it’s shell, and Stiles hums approvingly, “I could just fuck you all n-night.” 

 

Stiles gasps when he comes, holding back a groan and burying his head on her neck again, still thrusting for all he’s worth. Lydia runs her hands over his stomach as it contracts and relaxes, feeling him shoot his load deep inside her. She blinks repeatedly, adjusting to the warmth and exhales sharply as Stiles pulls them both back so they can lie on the bed. They roll and he pulls out on the process, bitting his bottom lip.

 

“Graceful,” She rolls her eyes, "When you look like an asshole, you fuck me like an asshole,” Lydia mocks, feeling herself flooded with his come even as it slips out, “I'm not cleaning this up.” She warns. 

 

Stiles blinks once at her, slowly coming back to himself and suddenly starts fumbling downwards, “You didn’t come,” He remarks. 

 

Lydia opens her legs, smiling to herself when he reaches his destiny, “Studies show that fifty to sixty percent of women don’t experience orgasm solely from penile penetration.” She informs absently. 

 

Stiles looks up at her, frowning, “That’s… something.” He levels, gaze dropping, “Good thing I like to eat you out, then.” It’s the last thing he says before going down, mouth gaping open and his tongue barely out, mapping her clit carefully. Lydia arches already, feeling herself pulse and ache for him. “Calm down,” Stiles chuckles, voice lazy, holding her hips down.

 

She huffs, though, impatient, “I'm encouraging you to finish this quickly.” 

 

“Oh,” His eyebrows shoot up, “I can do quick, sure.” He replies thoughtfully, and she’d make fun of his sentence if it weren’t for the way he sucks on her clit right after saying it, his tongue not so much mapping anymore, as it runs through the nub with just the right pressure. He lets go just when she thinks she might pass out from how steady he kept at it, and runs his tongue from her hole and up her clit again. 

 

Lydia holds her breath when she realizes his tongue is a mess of both him and her now, “Stiles look at me,” She asks, her voice broken like she might just be and he does so, shooting her a clueless look with those lips slightly parted and _dirty,_ almost dripping. “Oh my god,” She inhales, closing her eyes. “Just—just keep going.” 

 

She doesn’t have to say anything else before he’s latching on to her again, determined to make her come, probably as hard as she’d like to. She’ll never be able to describe to him how grateful she is for the way his mouth works as well as it looks, wet and hot all over her. But still, “Stiles, your mouth—you just…” She licks her own lips, feeling them dry, “ _Yes,_ ” She hisses when he sucks a little harder and lets go, restraining himself to only licking. The sounds that makes are indescribable, and it has her running her hands down, looking for his hair. Instead, what she finds is the cap, and she sighs, looking at him as if to keep the image of him in between her legs engraved in the back of her mind before pulling the accessory off and placing it beside them. She tugs at his hair and the flicking of Stiles’ tongue is suddenly at just the right spot. Lydia arches up again, and this time Stiles only follows, keeping his tongue where it is. The world burns bright when she comes, her body breaking in goosebumps and her legs going rigid. “St—iles,” Her voice breaks, small and fragile and she brings her thighs together, pushing Stiles away. 

 

“How is it that I’m naked and you're not?” Stiles asks amusedly as he lies face down next to her, retrieving the cap from under him.

 

She takes it from his hand, placing it backwards on his head again. “Not entirely naked, see?” Lydia grins proudly, petting it fondly, “We're burning it later.” 

 

“Lydiaaaa,” Stiles laughs, protesting weakly, and kisses her shoulder. “You only wanted it for sex?” He almost pouts and she smiles at him.

 

“Yes, of course. I already have a boyfriend.” She shrugs, like the matter is out of her hands and Stiles nods, dropping the subject. That might be due to his body giving up on energy as he lets his head rest on his cheek against his pillow, hands going under it as he’s splayed out naked beside her. “This is a nice picture,” She mumbles, eyes scanning him, “Why not?” 

 

Lydia reaches for her phone on the nightstand and gets up, appreciating the view from there as much as she did before. She flicks her gaze from Stiles’ bare ass, his back and the sufferable cap before snapping her new favorite picture. Lydia smiles to herself, feeling tiredness get caught up to her as well and lies back down, holding the phone next to her chest. “Stiles, spoon me!” She hisses, outraged that he hadn’t yet. He mumbles something and launches an arm over her, pulling her closer. “Good boy.” And she’ll pretend he didn’t bite the back of her neck for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, my children, _feedback!_


End file.
